No Good Deed
by Red Monster
Summary: Siryn runs into some trouble one night...


No Good Deed   
by Red Monster 

Disclaimer and warning: All recognizable characters belong to Marvel Comics. Yetta and everyone else belong to me. This is not a pretty story. If you have a child under the age of 12 in the room, hit the Back button right now. If you have just eaten or are about to eat soon, you don't need to read this right now. This story contains scenes of mugging and rape, so if you don't like reading about that stuff, this is not the story for you. This is not to be labeled a "sex story." It is rated NC-17 for violence, not sex. 

Archiving: Just ask, and you'll find an HTML copy of the story in your mailbox. 

Feedback: If you are impressed by this story and do not tell me, in public or private, I will send Jimmy after you. 

Permission: Pop-Up, OK. !MST, OK. 

_mental images_ **emphasis**

* * *

On a cool, dry summer night in San Francisco, Yetta Altenburg made her way home. Yetta was eighty-nine, and of the small, delicate stature that characterized many people of her age, but healthy and animated. She had been driving home from a visit to some younger relatives, when her car broke down, just a few blocks from her house. So, she started walking the rest of the way home to call a tow truck. Her hearing was superb, for a person of any age, though her vision wasn't what it used to be, especially in the dark. When a small group of young men in gang colors and silver chains started walking towards her, she didn't see anything dangerous about them, until they were right in front of her. 

Finally, they were close enough that she could see the vicious looks on their faces and the gang-colored rags on their heads. She tried to act as natural as possible, so if she wasn't really their target, she'd be out of their way and they'd leave her alone. She turned the corner and walked as fast as she could, but they caught up with her in seconds and surrounded her. 

They were all looking at her with blood on their eyes. What did they want from her? She had her purse with her, perhaps they thought she had money inside it? Maybe a little bit. She dropped her purse to the ground and stepped away from it. They kept advancing towards her, positioning their knives. Yetta never thought she'd go out this way. After living as long as she had, she'd always thought she'd just go to sleep one night and wake up in the clouds. She didn't want a bunch of men with weapons to be the last thing she saw. 

However, before any of them could touch her, a hair-raising, metallic scream filled the air. A visible ripple of force struck down each of the men like a broom coming down to sweep up a circle of dirt. They all collapsed like a line of dominoes and lay unconscious with bleeding ears. 

Yetta looked up into the sky and saw a young woman hovering tensely above and looking down at her. So this is what it's like to encounter a mutant. Yetta had to be next. She started running, as fast as her rickety little frame could move, determined to get away from this demon. The demon, however, soon landed in front of her, holding out her purse. 

"Ma'am, this is yours I presume?" she asked. Perhaps this mutant wasn't so dangerous after all. 

"Yes, thank you," Yetta said, taking back her purse. 

"Why were you running? I just saved you from those goons," she said. 

"Yes, I know. I'm terribly sorry, but I've never met a mutant before, so all I know about them is what I read in the newspapers, and…I was afraid I was next in line," she stammered. 

"No, ma'am, I'd never hurt anyone who'd just almost been mugged." 

"Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, I am. I'll never think that way about mutants again, damn what the press says. You know, what you did to them was pretty scary, so you could hurt me very badly if you wanted to. But now I know, you didn't want to, so I'll understand if you're angry with me." 

"No, ma'am," her expression softened noticeably. "You're much more gracious than most humans who're helped by mutants. Most of them are so busy being angry at us for coming near them, they forget to thank us for saving their lives. There may be some more goons out loose, so why don't I walk you home?" she offered. 

"I'd like that very much. Your name is…?" 

"Theresa Cassidy. I live over in China Basin. And you?" 

"Yetta Altenburg. I live just a few blocks away." 

* * *

  
Later, after seeing Yetta safely home and stopping briefly inside to accept her offer of a cup of tea, Theresa was on her way home. A few yards away from Yetta's house, the sound of a gunshot exploded through the air and her right leg seemed to explode along with it. She collapsed to the ground and screamed involuntarily. A small tree ahead of her disintegrated into sawdust. Theresa looked behind her and saw a dark red stain quickly spreading through her jeans. She tried to sit up, and find the shooter so she could get rid of him (or her, she couldn't draw any conclusions), but the pain crippled her, and all she could do was drag herself forward in a one-legged crawl. Then, a boy, about sixteen years old, started coming at her with an opened penknife, dressed similarly to the bunch that she'd put down when they threatened Yetta. 

That was stupid of him. Theresa screamed, despite the pain that was taking over her body, and the boy flailed as he was blown down the street. No sooner did she relax her vocal cords, than she heard a *click* behind her and the end of a gun pressed to the back of her head. 

"Funny, all the stupid things the new kids'll do when we tell 'em, isn't it, bitch? Try to scream, and you die," snarled a low voice. 

Theresa knew she had no choice. If she'd seen them before they'd shot her, she wouldn't be in this position now. But, she didn't see them, they got to her first, and now she couldn't even hold herself up, and would be killed if she tried to fight back, regardless of what state her powers were in. She whimpered fearfully and slumped down onto her stomach, which quickly became wet from the growing pool of blood from her leg. 

The gunman kept his stance behind her, and three more men stepped in front of her. All she saw were their feet, as she didn't dare be so bold as to look up. 

"You should've killed us. Snake, get the songbird on her back," said one of them. 

Snake roughly turned Theresa over until she was flat on the ground and placed his hand over her eyes, then pressed his gun into her forehead. Theresa felt knives graze her skin and cut away her top. 

"What are you doing?" she squeaked. 

"We're just having a little fun," said one of the voices. A blade flicked through the center of her bra, leaving her breasts exposed and the skin   
between them bleeding. 

"Please, don't hurt me," she whispered. Were they about to do what she thought they were about to do? 

"You know, you really shouldn't go poking your little mutie nose into other people's business. Should've just left the old broad to us and gone back home," said Snake's voice. 

"Get ready to know how it feels to be the weak one," said one of the gang in front of her. In seconds, the rest of her clothes were cut off, and she was naked, and bleeding in several places other than the gunshot wound. Theresa heard a zipper come undone. She felt a pair of hands push her legs apart. One of the gang straddled her body, and she felt the searing pain of a hard cock ramming its way up to her cervix, in addition to the maddening throbbing in her leg. 

"This one's… definitely… not… a virgin…" he said raggedly. 

Theresa covered the rest of her face with her hands and started to cry. She heard another zipper come open, and a thin steam of hot liquid landed on her. 

The liquid first landed on her stomach, then it was sprayed on her chest, her arms, her hair, and her legs. After the downfall stopped, two pairs of rough   
hands proceeded to rub it into her skin, especially the cuts they'd left while cutting away her clothes. It stung in the cuts, and it had a distinct smell. Theresa fought back the pain in her leg and tried to think of what it was they were spraying on her, and finally she recognized the smell. She'd just been urinated on. 

She heard another car pull up and the sound of slamming doors. 

"Is this the mutie bitch you called about?" asked a new voice. 

"Yeah…" groaned the one who was then inside her. 

"Well, let me have a turn at her," the new one returned. 

The one inside her pulled out and got up. Snake took his hand away from her eyes momentarily, and lifted his gun a foot above her, but still poised to   
pull the trigger. The two pairs of urine-soaked hands turned her over on her stomach, so her nipples scraped against the concrete. 

_The police carrying her away in a body bag…a drawer being opened in the city morgue, and her body inside. What was left of it, anyway._

The cylinder of the gun pressed against her head again, and a new pair of hands spread her buttocks apart. Theresa bit her lip as another pair of legs straddled her, and had to fight the urge to scream when one of the straddling legs pulled open her wound. True to form, the straddling was followed by another cock, this one through her anus. Another one of them started beating her with something cold and hard. Her whole body stiffened with each blow. Her ribs cracked, her stomach filled with something that wasn't supposed to be there. Meanwhile, the pool from her leg spread out to her chin. 

_Her friends and father, dressed in black and gray, sitting in the front row of a church sanctuary. A casket topped in flowers, being lowered into a perfectly rectangular pit in the earth._

Some more warm wet stuff landed on her in gobs, and a few pairs of boot-clad feet kicked her in the sides. How did she let this happen to her? 

Suddenly, she felt a collective jump around her. One of them said "Whoa, let's get out of here!" and the ones at her sides followed. The guy behind (and inside) her quickly pulled out and ran after them. 

Theresa's head spun in maddening circles. Her leg still had her in agony, she was dizzy from blood loss, and she couldn't think about anything. All she could see was the blurry world around her, twirling like a mad merry-go-round. 

* * *

  
Yetta heard some commotion coming from outside. She stepped out onto her front porch, and there, just in front of her neighbor's house, were a bunch of men apparently from the same gang as the ones who tried to mug her, beating something up. One wielded a steel pipe, one was holding a gun down at their prey, three or four were kicking it in the sides and spitting on it, and there was another, sitting in the middle of them, doing…something. 

"What's going on out there?" she said. They all then saw they'd been caught and ran away. When all but the last, the one who'd been sitting in the middle of it, had taken off, she saw Theresa there, a wild array of long red hair and milky arms and legs, lying naked in a pool of her own blood. The last one left got up, she heard the sound of pants being zipped up, and he ran after his buddies. Wait a minute, why did he have to zip up his pants? 

Yetta came closer after they'd gone, and got a better look at Theresa under the street lights. She had a wound in her leg that was bleeding like a faucet, bruises all over her body, and some suspicious marks all over her buttocks…oh, God, **that's** why that last guy had his pants unzipped… 

* * *

  
  
James Proudstar decided to catch up with his friend to join her in her late-night walk. With his heightened senses, he followed her scent through her usual route into the retirement district. A few blocks into the neighborhood of small, cozy houses with neat little rose gardens, he picked up the smell of urine, a bloody version of Theresa's scent, and heard some anxious young male voices. He followed the clues, and soon turned a corner just as a group or about six guys came up in front of him. They had bloody stains all over their clothes, and had Theresa's scent all over them. Could they have…no, they couldn't have. Theresa would mop the floor with those punks. Of course, they looked pretty anxious, so maybe she really did mop the floor with them. 

Anyway, James let them go, though with his suspicions intact, and kept on walking. A few more blocks of following her scent, and there she was. 

Oh, Lord, there she was. Her clothes were strewn about, her blood was flowing down the sidewalk, and her skin was dotted with bruises and finger marks. She was on her stomach, sort of dragging herself along the sidewalk, at the coaxings of a tiny, very old woman who held her hand. There was a jagged tree stump a few yards away from them, followed by a cloud of sawdust littering the ground in all directions. 

The tree, the guys, the wounds. So his earliest assumptions were right after all. 

"Terry…I'll be right back," he said through gritted teeth, then quickly turned around and started moving. 

At first he walked, trying to keep the boiling in his veins under control. He retraced his steps, back in the direction of where he'd last seen the guys, at the same time following the mixed scent of them and Terry. He gradually built up speed, as the image of Terry, pounded into tenderized meat, drove him forward. Within a minute, he caught sight of the guys, about fifty feet ahead of him. He broke into a full run, at his usual speed of 93 m.p.h., and was right behind them before they heard him coming. One of them turned his head to see James, and the boiling finally exploded through James' arm. Four heads sounded out a thunderous crack under the force of one massive forearm. A bed of crocuses in the yard next to them shivered under the breeze created by the blow. The two remaining tried to run away, but the boiling created another explosion in James' other arm. He caught them by the napes of their necks in one hand and with a vicious snarl, tossed them down the street. 

His head crackling, his body electrically charged, James looked around him. Four of his friend's attackers were unconscious and sprawled out against a chain link fence, on the other side of which were a bunch of small flowers leaning over slightly, as if to try to hide from him. The other two were lying many yards down the street, not moving. The image of Terry's brutalized body flashed in his mind again, and another explosion burst through his feet. He ran back towards Terry, and was there in seconds. The tiny old woman was still pulling her along by the hand, but hadn't gotten her to move much since he'd last been there. 

"Is she awake?" he asked Yetta while bending down to pick Terry up. 

"Yes, but she's not making much sense. Do you know her?" Yetta asked. Terry weakly curled her arm around James' neck and let him take her into his arms. 

"Yeah, I know her, she's one of my best friends. Do you know her?" 

"I just met her about an hour ago, actually. Some men surrounded me and were about to do something unspeakable, and she rescued me. So, she walked me home, I invited her in for some tea, and I called the police to come for the gang just after she left. They should be here any minute. I guess I should call an ambulance, too," she said, turning back towards her house. 

"No!" he burst out, then calmed down. "No. They'll come and ask questions and give us a hard time, and she can't wait that long. Tell the police about the   
incident when they get here, and that I've taken her to the nearest hospital," James instructed. 

"Well, at least let me give her a blanket to keep her warm. It certainly won't do her any good to be out here naked and bleeding like that," Yetta said. 

"Okay, she could use a blanket," James admitted, and followed Yetta back to her house. 

"This is my house here," Yetta said, and unlocked the front door. "Why is she all wet? Do I smell…?" 

"Urine. The bastards pissed on her!" James growled. 

"Calm down, young man. You don't want to hurt her any more than she already is," Yetta suggested while heading off to her linen closet. 

"Only one of them peed on me. Two of them rubbed it in," Theresa managed. 

"I hope I killed them. I really do. If I didn't, I'll come back later and kill them. They shouldn't live," James said. Theresa vomited some blood onto Yetta's carpet. 

"What was that?" Yetta called, hearing the sound of Theresa's body expelling the displaced substance. 

"Yetta, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that!" said Theresa, holding a hand out to Yetta. 

"It's okay, dear, I know you're hurt. Come, let's get her wrapped up," Yetta said. She laid a fluffy yellow blanket on a small sofa, which James laid Theresa down on. Yetta stroked her hair while James wrapped the blanket around her, then took her back into his arms. 

"When the police get here, tell them James Proudstar took her to the nearest hospital. I'm a mutant too, I can get her there faster than an ambulance. Thank you for the blanket," he said to Yetta, and quickly departed. 

* * *

"Okay, Jimmy, we got our asses over here in record time, now you owe us an explanation," Tabitha said. She, Bobby, Dani, Domino and Sam had just arrived at the hospital where he'd taken Theresa. She'd fallen unconscious shortly after they left Yetta's house, and he took her straight to the trauma ward. They rushed her off into a room and he hadn't seen her since. 

"Terry was gang-raped. They beat her up really bad," he managed after a pause. He was still charged from the shock of what he'd seen. 

The group exploded in chaos. "How did they do that to her?" "WHY did they do that to her?" "Just how did they get that close?" "Please tell me you're kidding!" 

"That's enough!" Domino shouted, and held her hands up at the level of her face to signal the group to be quiet. "Jimmy, have you called her father?" 

"No," James said. 

"I'll do that," Bobby said, and walked away to find a phone. 

"Thank you, Bobby. Now, James, can you tell us exactly what happened?" Domino asked. 

"Okay, here's what I know of the story: A very nice old lady was mugged. Terry got her out of danger, and walked her back home. They had some tea together, all that nice acquaintance crap, and then Terry left. Just a few yards outside the lady's house, Terry was shot in the leg by one of the thugs from the same gang. Then he and his friends beat her up and raped her. She's been shot, fucked up the ass, beaten up, and pissed on!" James broke the pen he was holding in one hand. 

"No good deed goes unpunished," Dani commented. 

... 

"Mr. Proudstar?" called a doctor, coming into the room in scrubs. 

"How is she?" James asked, practically jumping out of his seat. 

"Theresa is bleeding internally, so we're taking her to the O.R. to repair the damage. But so far, her prognosis is good. The damage is such that she should be okay if it's repaired right away." 

"Good, 'cause if she…" James began nervously, about to make a tension-induced threat. 

"Okay, you be good to her," Tabitha said to the doctor, cutting James off. 

"Jimmy, you've got to loosen up," Domino said after the doctor left. "We know you care about Terry, we do too, but these people are doing the best they can without you threatening them." 

Sam sat uneasily next to James, who still had the remnants of a shattered pen and a lot of ink in his hand. "So, you saw this happen?" 

"No. I didn't get there until after they ran away. So I tracked them down and knocked them around." 

"All this, and no one called the police?" Sam asked. 

"Actually, Yetta, the old lady who was mugged, called the police just after Terry left. I got there before they did," James corrected him. 

"Hmm," Sam pondered, sitting back. "Since they had a gun on her, they probably would've shot her if they'd heard the police coming. So it's a real good thing they got scared away before the cops arrived." 

"Yeah, well. Anyway, I don't know how they're doing right now. The rapists, I mean. I tossed them around the neighborhood, and I don't know how they got through it. I hope they didn't survive the tossing, as that'll mean one less group of animals for the city to deal with. Where'll you find a court that'll convict a gang of raping a mutant?" James said. 

"Same place you'll find an old lady who'll invite one in for tea. I'm assuming Terry used her powers to protect Yetta from the gang," said Dani. 

"Yetta didn't say that. I guess we can ask Terry when she comes out of surgery," said James. 

"Yes, we can. Are you okay now, James?" Dani asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"**I'm** okay. Terry won't be okay for a long time, though," said James. "Look, guys, I'm sorry about that time bomb mode a few minutes ago. Just…if you'd seen how she looked after what they did to her…" 

"Hey, Jimmy, you're rattled, we understand that. But, we've all gotta be strong for Terry. Especially you. She relies on you more than anyone else, so if you can't get it together, she's lost," said Sam. 

"Yeah, Jimmy. Look. You know Terry's gonna be okay. I mean, this is **Terry**. She's been knocked around by the Juggernaut and Nimrod before. A bunch of guys with handguns and full bladders aren't gonna finish her off," Tabitha said. 

"Maybe you didn't hear the doctor, Tabitha. Theresa's body cavity is filling up with her own blood. Have you heard of her being that badly injured before?" Dani asked. 

"Alright, Dani! I was just trying to ease up the mood." 

"None of us need to ease up anything. We need to hope that the doctors and nurses in the O.R. right now can save Terry's body, and then her mind is another matter entirely," Dani snapped. 

"Fine, no need to get all pissy at me. I'm not the one who raped her." 

* * *

  
Theresa woke up feeling disoriented, hearing the calm beeps of a monitor, with much of her chest covered in a cast, her leg covered in bandages from hip to knee, and other signs of medical intervention on her abdomen. She ran a finger from the left of her ribcage down and across to her hip and felt part of a fresh surgical scar. She opened her eyes to find someone standing over her. There was a big, sturdy black woman, about forty-five years old, wearing nurse's scrubs, looking down at her with concern in her eyes. 

"Hey, baby, you okay?" the nurse asked. 

Theresa shook her head. She wasn't quite sure where she was, but she knew why she was there. 

"Well c'mere," the nurse said. She lifted the hospital blanket away, picked Theresa up effortlessly and sat back down on the bed with her. She rocked back and forth and sang some folk-process nonsense that had no clear words or tune but soothed nonetheless. Theresa sank into her arms and closed her eyes. She might have sucked her thumb if the lullaby had gone on long enough. 

Suddenly, a very annoyed-looking orderly burst into the room. The nurse stopped crooning and jumped up with Theresa still in her arms, dragging the monitor with them. 

"You're not supposed to be in here!" yelled the orderly. He chased the nurse around the room until he had her cornered. She was blathering something unintelligible but clearly unhappy. The orderly pulled Theresa roughly away from the nurse and quickly laid her back down on the bed. 

"What's the matter? She was being so nice to me…" Theresa began. 

"This is not a nurse. She's a mental patient who likes to dress up and pretend," said the orderly. He took the mental patient dressed as a nurse by the arm and proceeded to wrestle her, sputtering and kicking all the way, out of the room. 

"No, don't take her away! I don't care if she's a mental patient, just let her stay here with me!" Theresa cried after them, but he never let her back in. She had to go back to her room in the psychiatric ward. 

Theresa cried herself to sleep and woke up to find her teammates, her father, and a doctor standing around the room. 

"Terry! When Roberto called me, I hung up the phone and jumped right onto one of Emma's jets," said Sean, coming over to hold her hand. 

She squeezed his hand back, but she had to find Jimmy, the last face she remembered before she passed out. "Jimmy, how long have I been here?" 

"About six hours. Do you remember what happened to you?" he asked. 

"Yes," she said, looking towards the edge of her pillow. There was silence for several seconds. 

"Terry, how are you feeling?" Tabitha asked. 

"What kind of a question is that?! How do you think I'm feeling?!" Theresa shouted. She started to sit up, but her hand immediately went to her new scar and her face twisted in pain. 

"Take it easy, Miss Cassidy," said the doctor, who came over to lay her back down. "Your spleen was ruptured, so we had to take it out, and you lost a lot of blood, so we gave you a transfusion. You also have a few broken ribs." 

"I know. I heard them snap myself," Theresa said in a low voice. 

"Now, you can leave the hospital tomorrow afternoon, but you'll have to rest for a few weeks. Also, there'll be a psychiatrist down here to see you in a few hours," said the doctor. 

"I'd rather have that mental patient who dresses as a nurse." 

There was a collective confused buzz around the room. "So, you met Nenna?" the doctor asked. 

"Is that her name? You know, she wasn't hurting me, in fact she was being very nice, but some ruffle-feathered orderly came in and made her go back to her padded room," Theresa said. 

"What are you people talking about?" asked Domino. 

Theresa sighed and put her hand lazily over her face. "Look, could you all leave me alone with Da for a little while?" she moaned. 

"Okay, everyone, let's give these two some space," James said, following everyone out the door. 

"Theresa, what happened? How did they get close enough--?" Sean started, but was interrupted. 

"Please, I don't want to talk about it right now. Just hold me," Theresa said, holding her arms up. 

"Of course I can do that," Sean said. He wrapped his arms around her and raised her to a sitting position. They sat like that for some time, tangled up in a clingy mass of arms and backs and lowered heads, before they separated and Sean let the team back into the room. He didn't even think of the monsters who'd hurt her. All he could think about was, his daughter would never be the same again, all because she had to stand up for someone in harm's way. 

* * *

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